


Lost

by madwriter223



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Written after the 2009 film] [Kink Meme]<br/>Being a touch-telepath had never been more of a disadvantage, McCoy mused as he watched Spock sleep.<br/>Then again, nowadays being a Vulcan, even half of one, was a dangerous deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

Being a touch-telepath had never been more of a disadvantage, McCoy mused as he watched Spock sleep. Then again, nowadays being a Vulcan, even half of one, was a dangerous deal.

With the destruction of Vulcan, its people suddenly became endangered. And being endangered meant being rare. And to some, an exotic possession to have. Star Fleet had issued one ship to constantly guard the New Vulcan colony after about ten Vulcans had been snatched and sold into slavery. Some had been found, some still remained forcefully away from their homes.

McCoy shook his head and lifted his hand to pet the soft black hair in front of him. He didn't have time to worry about those still lost. Not when one of the found was still lost in his own mind.

While Star Fleet was smart enough to protect those on New Vulcan, no one had thought to protect the only half-Vulcan off the planet. All the others were safe, happily repopulating their new home, while Spock was on the _Enterprise_ , happily doing science experiments. And stubbornly joining the away teams, even when they all should've known it wasn't safe for him.

They finally figured out that slavers didn't care one bit about who they were kidnapping when Spock failed to return from one newly-discovered planet. And the away team he was leading was found dead, their throats slit wide open or burned right through with phasers.

It took seven weeks and three days to find him again. The longest days of McCoy's life, if he was honest. And when they did, no one blamed Jim for blowing up the ship the half-Vulcan was being transported on with his 'owner'. Hell, if the kid had decided to go outside and piss on the wreckage, the doctor wouldn't've been surprised. He had wanted to go over there himself and claw that monster's eyes out, rip out his heart (if he had any) and burn off his balls and cock.

But he had been too busy treating the sedated Vulcan. Too busy cataloging each bruise, scratch and raw wound on the lean body, too busy trying to forget the way Spock had looked without recognition at his saviors, how he had fought hands that only wanted to help.

When the half-Vulcan had woken up, all his attempts at blocking those memories proved fruitless, all his prayers that it had all been just a result of shock went unheard. Spock had hissed at them, curling his body away from any touch aimed at him. He had pressed himself into a corner and refused to move, flinching and growling if anyone came too close. The one person who had ignored all that and grabbed the Vulcan's shoulder had ended up with his arm broken in three places.

Despite that, Jim would still come by often, though he no longer tried to touch his former First Officer, not without permission.

McCoy had been the one who had eventually managed to get through to the bundle of nerves and pain that was their Vulcan. Each day, he would sit in the room Spock was in, talking to him in a soft voice. Telling him of all he had missed in his captivity, detailing the various ways the crew had shown that they missed him. He would bring over stuff from the Vulcan's cabin and anything anyone would bring him, describing it as he saw it, hoping the Vulcan he knew would appear at least for a moment to correct him on his musings. Each item was placed near the Vulcan, along with some food, and they would leave the room so that Spock could examine the iterms by himself. McCoy spent hours watching the security feed, tired eyes not once looking away from the sight of the Vulcan touching those things, turning them in his grasp, staring at them with curious eyes.

Then one day, when McCoy once again entered the private room with his arms loaded with presents, personal mementos, books and a plant from Sulu, Spock was already waiting for him. McCoy would remember that forever – Spock sitting Indian-style, slightly away from his corner, staring at the doctor with expectant eyes. And when McCoy was once again describing an object he held, the Vulcan had slowly inched closer, expression wary. But he had still trusted him in the end, reaching out a hesitant hand and taking the thing from him. McCoy couldn't even remember what that had been. Just that Spock pointed out a spot on it, and looked at the doctor with eyes filled with eager curiosity.

It took two weeks before McCoy was able to touch the Vulcan, and even then Spock had flinched away from him. He still sometimes had this expression, as if he was expecting to be hurt any minute now, to be violated again and for his skin to subconsciously drink up any vile and disgusting thoughts out there. It broke his heart to see it, and McCoy made it a habit to place a gentle kiss on one arched eyebrow whenever he saw it.

Cause that was the truth about Spock's captivity – he had been tied down, raped first by his kidnappers, then the slave auctioneer, then his 'owner', over and over again. His damn touch-telepathy had filled his mind with luscious thoughts of dirty cruelty, of dark lust and sadistic glee at causing pain. And when he had had no moment of peace, no moment to rest and gather what was left of himself, Spock's mind had simply retreated, hidden away from all the hurt that his life had turned into. Bringing him out of that shell was delicate and slow work, but well worth it.

Eventually, it became safe to introduce others to Spock. Or, should he say, re-introduce.

Jim had been first. McCoy had spent an hour instructing him on how he was to behave: no touching, no sudden movements, no touching, no loud noises, _for God's sake,man, don't try to touch him!_

And like a cat that had been beaten too many times, Spock would stay just outside of touching distance. He stared at the Captain with distrustful eyes, hissing in warning when Jim had stepped a little too close to his liking. He acted like that with each 'newcomer', warming to them after at least five days.

And as much as Spock avoided being too close to everyone else, he seemed to gravitate towards McCoy, the only person on the ship he seemed to trust. That was the reason when Spock was well enough to leave his room in Sickbay, it was decided that the Vulcan should move in with the doctor.

And move in he did. A week before McCoy had started taking him to his room each day, to get him used to his future surroundings. Spock had roamed all over the new space, touched his things and smelled all the corners. When McCoy thought about it, Spock had pretty much reverted to what his ancient ancestors had been – a giant humanoid feline that could break a human's spine without too much effort.

The doctor had taken as much leave as he could, so that he could stay close to the still skittish Vulcan. He continued reintroducing him to his friends, started taking walks around the decks with him. He started having a little gathering of friendly people once every few days, to get Spock used to crowds again, though at the beginning the Vulcan had been less than pleased.

It paid off in the end. McCoy was back on active duty, and he didn't have to worry that Spock would freak at something and run (again). Spock was well enough to take short walks by himself. He knew to go to McCoy when something would upset him. Jim was able to touch him again, and the kid started playing a rather one-sided version of chess with the Vulcan – Jim played for them both, while Spock stared in fascination.

But he was still far from okay. He still wouldn't talk, neither in Standard nor in Vulcan. He still hissed and cowered when in the presence of someone taller than him. He still tended to crouch low to the ground when faced with someone he was unsure of. He still had nightmares that made him cry and fight with an invisible enemy. Or a memory of torture.

He still didn't recognize his own father, though he seemed more trustful of him than of others. It took barely a few days before the older Vulcan had been allowed to touch him.

First time ever McCoy had seen so much emotion in a full-blooded Vulcan.

Spock made a low noise in his throat, and McCoy gathered him closer, rubbing his back soothingly. He pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead and rested his cheek atop Spock's head.

They still had a long way to go. A long, long way.

**Author's Note:**

> -Written for a Kink Meme prompt-  
> Post movie, Spock is captured on an away mission and sold, because Vulcans are now considered rare and exotic.  
> It takes months to find him and by the time they do, the damage is done and Spock won't let anyone near him.  
> It takes some effort, but McCoy eventually earns his trust and he's at Spock's side as he recovers.


End file.
